suggested from the altar.

At this point I want to interpose with one word to the reader to beg him
not to regard this as either a connected narrative of crime, much less a
regular essay with proper deductions--the trimmings to the joint--but
only a series of observations as I recall events which impressed me, and
which I think may come home with some force to a happier generation that
knew neither Parnellism nor crime. To write a consecutive and connected
history of these atrocities would be to compile a volume of horrors. I
prefer to give a few recollections of outrages, and to let the direct
simplicity of these terrible reminiscences impress those who have bowels
of compassion.

A gentleman named Nield was killed in Mayo, simply because he was
mistaken for my son Maurice. This was in broad daylight, in the town of
Charlestown. It was raining hard at the time--a thing so common in
Ireland that no one mentions it any more than they do the fact of the
daily paper appearing each morning--and the unfortunate victim had an
umbrella up, so the mob could not see his face. They shouted, 'Here's
Hussey,' and tried to pull him off the car, but the parish priest
stopped this. However, before he could reduce the villains to the fear
of the Church, which does affect them more than the fear of the Law,
they gave poor Nield a blow on the head, and, though he lived for six
months, he never recovered.

Another time, when returning to his house in Mayo from Ballyhaunis, on a
dark night, my son Maurice found a wall built, about eighteen inches
high, across the road, for the express purpose of upsetting him. It was
only by the grace of God--as they say in Kerry--and his own careful
driving, that he was preserved.

In those same Land League times, my son was a prominent gentleman rider.
At Abbeyfeale races he rode in a green jacket and won the race, which
produced a lot of enthusiasm, the crowd not knowing who it was sporting
the popular colour. They only heard it was my son after he had left the
course, whereupon a mob rushed to the station, and the police had to
stand four deep outside the carriage window to protect him, to say
nothing of an extra guard at the station gates.

The cordiality of my fellow-countrymen also provided me with another
disturbed night at Aghadoe, which I had leased from Lord Headley.

To quiet the apprehensions of my family, and also to relieve the mind of
the D.I. from anxiety about my tough old self, t